I see a little bee
Buzzing, on the flee
Who are you running from?
Are you scared of your mom?
I see a dog
Sniffing after a frog
Where will you take him?
Into the night dim?
I see a butterfly
Flutter, flutter by
What are you so happy about?
Silver lining to your cloud?
And then I see a mirror
And in it, my face
Nothing but a smirk on it
No sign, No trace
I stop asking these questions
They can’t answer me.
Why was I asking them?
Need a reason to be ME?
Yeah, Probably.
A wanderer, in the world, can only find peace if there are questions. And their answers. Having spent years practicing this art of breaking situations, people and places into smaller, more fathomable pieces, to swallow their meaning, I have run out of storage space. My brain needs to empty out. It is good fun, people should know what's in there. And maybe start asking their own questions.